The Art of Knowing
by bookingplanes
Summary: You notice it the first time you see him on the Hogwarts' Express. You're naïve, and you can't express what you're feeling accurately, but the moment you see his sparkling blue eyes you know that he knows.


_Theodore Nott knows._

You notice it the first time you see him on the Hogwarts' Express. You're naïve, and you can't express what you're feeling accurately, but the moment you see his sparkling blue eyes you know that he knows.

_And you hate him for it._

* * *

You've never liked to share your emotions with other people. Sure, you laugh when you find something funny, and sure, you don't really try to hide your humor outbursts, but you don't like to share your true intentions with others.

Perhaps you got used to putting up a fake smile all the time because of your mum. Perhaps you got tired of explaining yourself to your countless step-fathers (you knew they wouldn't last too much anyway). Perhaps you simply liked to have your privacy.

Perhaps you're scared to get hurt, because you're a human being.

That's why you hated him from the beginning. You haven't told this to anyone, though, because that would reveal shit about you and you're not interested in that.

You try to ignore it, but it doesn't work out too well. It doesn't matter where you are, or who you're talking to, you never fail to notice him. He's always there; close enough to see everything, but not enough to be noticed.

He doesn't quite fit into any group (he doesn't even try), but everyone's just _drawn_ to him. If he's sitting alone on the couch, someone's bound to go sit with him for no apparent reason.

Theodore doesn't follow others. He goes away when he wants to be somewhere else, ignores people when he's not interested in what they have to say, and doesn't answer when he finds the question irrelevant. But people still like him. You've worked _so _hard to make people like you (because deep down you still want people to acknowledge you) but he does it effortlessly. He's a natural. You'll never be like him.

_So you hate him. And you know that he knows._

* * *

You know, too, because you're watching him all the time, and you start noticing things. He doesn't talk much, but he's always hearing conversations with that bored expression of his. And he likes the lake. Sometimes you wonder if he's seen the giant squid, but you're too much of a coward to ask.

He's never the first one to wake up in the mornings. The first one up is usually Malfoy, because he needs to look perfect by the time everyone else wakes up (you've seen him all tousled up, though; but he doesn't need to know that). Theodore uses everyone else's morning noise as alarm. Sometimes you try to be quiet because you want him to be late for class, but Crabbe and Goyle end up waking him up anyway.

You've noticed how he doesn't work too hard on his homework, and still never gets bad grades. He's not too good, but he's not too bad. He's rather average. You know he'd get better qualifications if he tried harder, but he'll never bother to do something like that. He doesn't care.

He's organized about everything but his bed. His bed is fucking messy. And it bothers you a lot, because it's _really really bad_. Even Goyle's bed is more acceptable than Theodore's. You're probably the only one fussing about it, but you can't bring yourself to stop noticing it.

_And he knows that you know and he doesn't care._

So you can't stop watching him. You automatically search for him when you enter a room. You understand his gestures, you know what they mean, you know what he's thinking, and you hate it. You can't help it, though. You've grown used to having his eyes on you, because he watches you as you spy on him. And he doesn't question you, but you know he's curious and that makes you proud.

* * *

You're cold. It's the middle of December and it feels like the fireplace you're watching is completely useless. Slytherin's common room has always been one of the coldest places in the castle (perhaps because it's in the dungeons) but sometimes you seem to forget that. And you're not going anywhere because he's sitting in front of you.

He's on a small couch, reading a book. You are lying down, occupying an entire three cushion sofa by yourself. You're looking at him. You're grateful it's this late, because otherwise people would be giving you weird looks and laughing at you. Your interest for him has gotten way too obvious, but you don't care. You don't want to miss anything.

_And he lets you see him. He knows why you're doing it and he knows that you know._

"I hate you," you whisper, half-hoping he heard and half-hoping he didn't. But he does. You're both used to interpreting quiet signals and nonexistent words, something as loud as that would never go unnoticed.

"I know," he replies. And you knew he'd say that. His posture doesn't change (he's still incredibly relaxed in that fucking small couch), but he lifts his eyes from the book he's been reading. And you can't breathe, can't move, can't think, because his eyes are sparkling like they always do and you feel like you could die right now because no moment will ever be as perfect as this one.

* * *

_Theodore Nott knows._

You resisted it at first, but that didn't work out very well for you, so now you admit to yourself freely that you've grown addicted to him. You need to watch him and hear him and _feel _him and it doesn't seem like that's something that'll stop very soon.

_And you know that he knows that now you're sure you've fallen in love with him._

_But it doesn't really matter anymore, because he seems to be falling in love with you too._

* * *

Hullo! This is a little experiment concerning writing styles. It _is_ supposed to be repetitive, btw. Also, I'm not a native English speaker, so please excuse my any shitty grammar and/or sentences you may encounter :)


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